


Steal Some Covers, Share Some Skin

by ShowMeAHero



Series: The Smithsonian [8]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Domestic, Domestic Avengers, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Humor, M/M, Mornings, Prompt Fill, Steve is morning garbage and Bucky sometimes wants him to die, Waking Up, but in a very not-dying way, have mercy on Bucky, he just wants him to sleep for a little longer, please god
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-12
Updated: 2015-04-12
Packaged: 2018-03-22 12:02:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,187
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3728224
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShowMeAHero/pseuds/ShowMeAHero
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Steve is a morning person and always has been and Bucky is not a morning person and never has been. May God have mercy on Bucky's soul.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Steal Some Covers, Share Some Skin

**Author's Note:**

> I got a prompt that said, "I need Bucky bleary-eyed and swearing rapidly and loudly in Russian regardless of the situation. Or when Steve wakes him up at 6am for a jog." I did not write down who I got it from. I'm gonna guess Lauryn, but I am not 100% sure.
> 
> That's literally all this is. That's it. It's the most beautiful garbage.
> 
> There's an assload of swearing, in English and in Russian. I tried my best with the Russian swearing. All of the words that the Russian is supposed to be are translated at the end, for your enjoyment.
> 
> The title is taken from "Sunday Morning" by Maroon 5 because I couldn't think of anything funny at 2:30 am.

Steve was up at six o’clock, right on the nose, every day. Regardless of the fact that his internal clock had an alarm set for 0600 since his army days, and around 7:00 (still an ungodly hour) before that, he still set the alarm on his clock, _and_ the alarm on his phone, just in case. The beautiful, hellish result was a blaring clock alarm, a bugle phone alarm, and Steve rocketing out of bed like his ass was on fire at the same time every single fucking morning.

Bucky was never a morning person. The army beat an early wake time into Steve; Bucky, on the other hand, preferred to sleep in later after basic training kicked his ass. Even when he was ninety pounds soaking wet, Steve had had the disgusting habit of cartwheeling out of his bed _into Bucky’s_ and proceeding to shake him awake like an animal, regardless of the fact that Sarah Rogers did not raise her son in a goddamn barn.

Bucky was kind of hoping it would be different now, that maybe seventy years of sleeping might have gotten Steve into the habit of maybe sleeping until a more reasonable hour, like 8:00, or maybe noon. It did it for Bucky, that's for goddamn sure - he loved having control over his own sleeping schedule. However, if anything, it had the opposite effect on Steve. Just like the 30s and 40s, Steve would roll right out of bed like he had been lying there awake the whole night, just waiting for the moment he was allowed to start his day. He was just much bigger now; and, obviously, Steve had been a huge dick when he woke up when he and Bucky led the Howling Commandos, but Bucky didn’t really have enough time to get used to the freakish new size of Steve, never mind time to adjust to all that muscle throwing itself over Bucky’s body in the morning.

Waking up with Steve in 2015 was a new, special kind of hell.

As he always did, Steve was up at six o’clock, right as the little loser hour hand on the clock hit that disgusting goddamn six. The bugle on his phone started to blare, and Bucky had flashbacks to training, then flashbacks to trying to smother newly-gigantic-Steve with a pillow. The clock alarm started blaring in his face 0.2 seconds later, and then Steve’s huge hands were slamming both of the alarms into silence before he launched himself out of bed. He tore the curtains back from the windows and inhaled deeply. Bucky shoved Steve’s pillow over his head, blocking out the faint dawn sunlight that people sometimes called  _beautiful_ but that Bucky despised to his hardened caramel core.

“It looks like it’s gonna be a beautiful day, Buck!” Steve announced, as though Bucky ever answered when Steve spewed this bullshit every morning. “The sun’s already starting to come up! The sky is clear!” Bucky heard the slight tap as Steve pressed his palm to the window. “It feels like the temp’s great, Buck, let’s go for a run-”

“Fuck off,” Bucky grunted into the pillows. Steve was silent for a moment, Bucky trying desperately to listen for his footfalls before the pillows were yanked away from him. Bucky groaned loudly.

“Let’s go, Buck, come on, I think a run would do us some good-”

“We went to bed at two in the fucking morning, how the hell are you-”

“ _Buck_ , come _on_ -”

“Oh, Christ Jesus, отсоси мне, пиздаеб-”

“ _Buck_ -”

“Steve, Черт возьми, долбоеб, иди на хуй, мудак-”

Steve started yanking at the covers. Bucky grappled with him, his left arm whirring as it snapped out to tug the blankets back down.

“Отъебись, ебанько малолетнее-”

“It’s so beautiful outside!”

“Завали ебало!”

“Now, I know that Winnie Barnes didn’t raise a sailor like you.”

“Steve, you ебанутый пидорас-”

“I’m sorry, what was that?”

“отъебись-”

Steve finally succeeded in tearing the blankets away from Bucky, leaving him cold and sad and pissed as hell in the middle of their bed. Bucky reached out blindly, grabbing at Steve with his eyes squeezed shut.

“соси хуй и не психуй, Steven.”

“You’re a foul-mouthed bastard, Barnes. It’s despicable. Thank God that our mothers weren’t around to hear the filth you’re tossing at little old me.”

“They’d be on my side, you fucking jack,” Bucky muttered into the mattress. He raised his head once he finally grabbed onto a part of Steve - his wrist, as it turned out. Steve tugged at him. Bucky squinted, bleary-eyed. Steve grinned, wide and blinding and unholy as hell.

“Let’s go for a run.”

“I hate you.”

“C’mon, Buck, you’re already awake, let’s just go!”

“Steve, I literally hate you _so much_ , it’s _actually_ inconceivable to me that it's happening.”

“I’ll just go wake up Sam, then,” Steve threatened, tugging out of Bucky’s grip and half-heartedly inching towards the door.

“No, you will fucking not!” Sam exclaimed from the sofa in the living room. Bucky gave Steve a smug, half-awake smile. Steve blew out a harsh breath that rearranged the bedhead hair falling across his forehead. Clearly recalculating, Steve approached Bucky again, who watched him warily; Bucky was still curled up in a ball on the bed, pillows and blankets abandoned on the floor, just out of his reach.

“We don’t have to go for a run,” Steve suggested in a low voice, sitting on the edge of the bed. Bucky’s only movement was his eyes tracking Steve’s every action. Steve reached out, running his fingers gently through the hair at the back of Bucky’s neck, carefully working out any tangles from the night. Bucky found himself automatically relaxing into the touch, despite his better judgement.

“Damn right we don’t,” Bucky muttered. Steve nodded, like he was being understanding. Bucky’s eyes narrowed, but he let Steve lean down and kiss him anyways. Steve’s grip in his hair tightened, tugging Bucky closer, deepening the kiss, pushing his tongue into Bucky's mouth, and Bucky groaned, half-sitting up to get closer to Steve. Steve made a soft sound when Bucky moved, and Bucky sat all the way up eagerly, both of his hands tangling in Steve’s hair and shoving the two of them closer together. Steve pulled back after a minute, his breath a little short, pressing his face into Bucky's neck, biting at his skin. Bucky tipped his head back and to the side a bit to allow him better access.

“Are you awake now?” Steve asked, all smiles and teeth against Bucky's skin. Bucky nodded jerkily, and Steve pulled back abruptly, standing beside the bed and adjusting his sleep pants. Bucky looked up at him, betrayal in his eyes.

“What-”

“Good,” Steve said, as if Bucky hadn’t spoken at all. “Then we can go for a run.”

Bucky leapt off the bed and tackled Steve’s dumb ass to the ground before chucking his running shoes out of their bedroom. He hit Sam with one. Sam was going to kill them both, very soon, and it was only 6:10.

It looks like it’s gonna be a beautiful day.

**Author's Note:**

> Russian translations (hopefully):  
> отсоси мне, пиздаеб = suck my dick, cunt fucker  
> Черт возьми, долбоеб, иди на хуй, мудак = damn it, fuckhead, fuck you, bastard  
> Отъебись, ебанько малолетнее = fuck off, (adolescent) jerk  
> Завали ебало = shut the fuck up  
> ебанутый пидорас = fucking motherfucker  
> отъебись = go fuck yourself  
> соси хуй и не психуй = relax and suck dick
> 
> I'm glad to be back writing these. They're so much fun to do.
> 
> You can follow me on Twitter at [@nicoIodeon](https://twitter.com/nicoIodeon) or on Tumblr at [andillwriteyouatragedy](http://andillwriteyouatragedy.tumblr.com/).


End file.
